Hitman with a Badass System

The old woman's lips curled into a sinister snicker as she addressed Michael, her tone dripping with a chilling mix of mockery and threat. "You shouldn't have poked your nose into matters that don't concern you, young man."

An uneasy silence gripped the room as her words lingered, heavy with threat. Suddenly, the atmosphere twisted with shock as the old woman underwent a grotesque transformation. Her frame contorted, skin turning ashen and leathery like decay. Unnaturally hunched, she surged to eight feet, her limbs stretching into razor claws.

"Finally showing yourself huh?" Michael sneered inside.

A putrid stench pervaded, maggots wriggling from her skin. Once benign eyes turned into seething hollows, while jagged rotted teeth jutted from her twisted mouth. The monstrous form defied nature's bounds, a maelstrom of horror that submerged the room in fear.

"By the gods!" Veer's voice cracked with shock, his face a mask of horror.

"Holy... what is that?" Hal's voice trembled, his disbelief bordering on terror.

Carmella's cry mixed with their astonishment, her voice a desperate plea laced with fear. "No, please! Spare them!"

The monstrous being, her form contorted and twisted beyond recognition, shot Carmella a malevolent glare. "You will pay for what your cousins have done," her voice, a guttural growl, foretold of unfathomable cruelty. With a swift, ominous wave of her clawed hand, a vicious gust of wind surged forth, shrouding Carmella in a maelstrom of energy.

In the blink of an eye, Carmella vanished, as if swallowed by the wind itself, leaving her cousins in shocked silence. Their cries were stifled, replaced by an eerie emptiness that settled over the room.

The monstrous form turned its gaze back to Michael, its hollow sockets seething with a malevolence that transcended the boundaries of the natural world.

Its voice, a disturbing amalgamation of the old woman's and something more sinister, dripped with mockery and taunt.

"You meddle in affairs you cannot comprehend, young man. Your presence here will be your undoing."

"Let her go!" Veer's voice quivered with rage and desperation, his eyes burning with a fierce determination.

"Release her now!" Hal's cry echoed his brother's sentiment, his voice marked by a fierce urgency.

But the monstrous entity, her form radiating malevolence, merely responded with a dismissive wave of her hand. In that moment, veins of darkness erupted from the very walls, snaking forward like serpents of shadow. With eerie precision, they wrapped themselves around the brothers' mouths, silencing their pleas and cries in an instant.

Veer and Hal's voices were muffled, their eyes wide with shock and alarm.

However, Michael remained calm as Griffy, now showed her true self as a monster looked at her bloodling minions, including Poppy.

"Does this sight fill you with fear, young man?" Griffy's voice dripped with a sinister curiosity, her lips curling back to reveal a long, slithering tongue. A yearning hunger tainted her tone, a thirst for the anticipation of a fresh victim.

"If anything, this makes me feel disgusted," Michael retorted, his response cutting through the air with a touch of defiance. He met her unsettling gaze head-on, unflinching in the face of her malevolence.

The old woman who turned into a monstrous being seemed taken aback by his retort, a momentary flicker of surprise crossing her grotesque features.

"I'm not one to indulge in body-shaming," Michael continued with a sigh, his voice carrying an exasperated edge. "But my god, you've really outdone yourself in the 'ugly' department."

The unexpected jab seemed to strike a nerve, a mixture of disbelief and anger flashing across the creature's hollow eyes.

"Let's see if your actions can back your words. My minions, go bring him to my feet," Griffy commanded, her voice laced with a twisted blend of authority and anticipation. The bloodlings, each standing around three feet tall, swiftly responded to her orders.

Without a trace of fear, they surged forward toward Michael, their movements determined and predatory. Hisses and curses dripped from their lips as they closed in on him, an eerie chorus of malice that echoed through the air.

The bloodlings surged forward, their voices dripping with disdain as they spat out derogatory terms. "Human scum," one sneered, while another hissed, "Mortal fool."

With no hestitation, they rushed toward him, their movements quick and purposeful.

Yet, Michael remained eerily calm in the face of their onslaught. He calmly cracked his fingers, a casual gesture that belied the tension of the moment.

In the midst of their aggression, Poppy's voice suddenly pierced the air, cutting through the tension.

"Avoid his needles, you fools!" he bellowed at his fellow bloodlings, his words echoing with a mix of caution and urgency. The sudden outburst confused some of the bloodlings, a flicker of hesitation crossing their eyes.

Michael seized this moment of uncertainty to his advantage. His hand moved with deliberate slowness, revealing the hilt of a dark sword hidden at his side. The glint of malevolent steel caught the dim light, casting an eerie shimmer that danced across the room.

With a taunting grin, Michael addressed the advancing bloodlings. "Well, let me see what you bloodlings are made of," His voice carried a mocking challenge, each word an unspoken dare that hung in the air.

As the bloodlings lunged, their distorted features contorted with a mix of fury and desperation, Michael's response was a symphony of controlled aggression. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of the dark sword, and with a fluid motion, he unsheathed it, revealing the blade that glimmered with a malevolent aura.

The clash erupted with a deafening intensity. Michael moved with an uncanny precision, his strikes landing true and merciless. The sword cleaved through the air with a lethal grace, the blade connecting with the bloodlings' frail forms. Blood splattered in grotesque arcs, painting the scene with a morbid red as the bloodlings' once-vicious hisses transformed into anguished cries of pain and shock.

"You'll pay for this!" one of the bloodlings spat, his voice carrying a note of desperation as he writhed in agony.

Michael's reply was a grim smile, his movements a chilling display of mastery. With each swing, heads and bodies were severed as if they were naught but fragile twigs. The room echoed with the sickening sound of flesh meeting steel, punctuated by the wet thuds of severed limbs hitting the ground.

In a matter of minutes, the battle had turned into a massacre. The once-threatening bloodlings now lay in lifeless heaps, their torment at an end.

Amidst the aftermath, the old woman's voice carried a tinge of amusement. "Impressive. Your skills are quite the spectacle, young man."

Poppy's response, however, held a tinge of fear. "This isn't good. He's more lethal than I thought."

"Poppy, come here," the old woman's sudden call reached out for her sole remaining minion. While Michael had indeed ignited fear within Poppy, it was clear that the terror inspired by Griffy was far greater. With his tiny legs carrying him swiftly, Poppy rushed to Griffy's side, his posture stiff and obedient like a soldier answering a superior's command.

"Yes, Griffy!" Poppy's voice rang out, his tone an eager mix of compliance and loyalty as he stood at attention.

Yet, the unfolding scene took an unexpected and horrific turn, jolting Michael's senses. The old woman's hands darted forward to snatch Poppy without warning. Michael watched in shock as Griffy's mouth stretched wide open, a chilling grin that seemed to defy the limits of human anatomy.

"What the..." Ayag's exclamation echoed the shared astonishment, her widened eyes mirroring Michael's disbelief. As Griffy's jaws unhinged like that of a python, a wave of horrified realization crashed over them.

"What are you doing? No!"

"Don't!"

Poppy's desperate screams tore through the air, but their frantic pleas proved futile. In a nightmarish tableau, the old woman's rotten teeth clamped down with a sickening crunch, obliterating bones and resistance alike. Michael winced at the grisly sounds that followed, the repulsive symphony of bones being shattered and devoured. The sight, even in the dim light of the room, was undeniably grotesque, a grotesque display that seared itself into Michael's memory.

Michael's revulsion was palpable as he witnessed the gruesome spectacle unfold before him. He couldn't help but voice his thoughts, his tone a mix of horror and disgust. "That's beyond disgusting..."

The old woman's laughter erupted, a macabre sound that seemed to dance on the edge of madness. "Oh, my dear boy, you've only just glimpsed the beginning of horror," she retorted, her tone a chilling melody of mirth and malice. Her eyes bore into his, their depths swirling with a sadistic amusement.

"And as for your dear Carmella," she continued, a sinister grin twisting her already grotesque features, "she too shall meet the same fate. A fate she cannot escape." Her words dripped with a wicked satisfaction, each syllable laden with a cruel certainty.

"Her essence will blend into a savory soup, an offering to my insatiable hunger," the old woman declared.

"Ah, the taste of innocent flesh," she mused, a morbid nostalgia tainting her tone. "The most potent drug in all realms, young man. It surpasses any sustenance, offering a feast for both body and soul."